Here I Lay
by Autumn Dae
Summary: When Ziva gets shot, Tony deals with the consequences in a way no one had ever imagined, and only he can fix it, but of course, the road won't be easy for any of them. Major TIVA.
1. Sorry

It had all happened so fast. He was staring at her. In those last moments, his eyes never left hers though his gun was aimed at Tony. She couldn't let him do this. Not to her partner. Not to Tony.

Ziva David remembered the scene clearly.

"_One move and he's dead," the man looked around at the group—Gibbs, Ziva, and Tim, looking for a reaction. Tony was aiming at the man from only a few feet away. The man knew that this was his last stand. He didn't care if he died. This was just something he needed to do._

"_Put the gun down and no one's gonna get hurt," Tony warned._

_The man laughed, then moved his eyes to Ziva. Tony shifted protectively. "I saw that," The man smiled evilly. _

"_Come on, your family needs you alive. So just put the gun down and we can call it a day," Tony's heart began to beat faster as the man's eyes were stayed on Ziva's._

"_My life is over and we both know it,"_

"_We're gonna get out of this. My name is Tony DiNozzo. What's yours?"_

"_Jack,"_

"_Got a last name, Jack?" _

"_No,"_

"_You don't need to do this, Jack," _

"_Ever lose someone you love, DiNozzo?" Jack took a step towards Ziva and Tony winced._

"_Yes, I have. It sucks. Don't put your family through it,"_

"_Too late," Jack changed his aim in the blink of an eye and shot at Ziva as Tony took a shot at Jack. _

"_No," Tony whispered as Ziva fell to the ground. He didn't care about Jack—Gibbs and Tim would handle him. But Ziva was bleeding out fast. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but instead her eyes closed and she went unconscious._

She had been lying in the bed for what felt like weeks. She could smell the antiseptic air and hear the soft beeping of machines. She was in a hospital. Ziva was certain she was in a coma—she couldn't open her eyes, couldn't move. She felt as if she was in a dream world. She felt weak. Ziva wasn't sure if she could knock down the wall that was keeping her shut in. She could feel the pain in her shoulder, but it had been almost dulled completely by what must have been morphine.

Ziva had spent most of her time sleeping. The time she was awake was spent listening to Ducky talk about his past, or Gibbs silently sipping his coffee. Sometimes she was she could hear Abby and McGee chattering about who knows what.

And then there were the times when all was silent. Not a sound was made, not a word was spoken. It had to be late at night; otherwise someone would be there with her. Ziva thought she could feel someone beside her. Whoever it was made no noise. During the day, Ziva could her door open and close. Sometimes it was a nurse. Other times it had to be the team. But who in the world would be coming to visit at such a late time? Why wouldn't they say anything?

She felt helpless. All strength had left her body. She wanted to wake up… maybe. She had to find the strength, the reason…

And suddenly it became clear. _Tony_.

"Um, hey Ziva," Ziva heard the familiar voice. He sounded far away, but somehow so close. "So you got shot in the shoulder. Jack didn't have much of an aim, did he? You're in a coma… but you probably know that. Heh. Um. When you got shot, you fell backwards onto the concrete. You hit your head pretty bad. You've been out for three days now. The doctor said it might help if I… if we talked to you," He corrected himself. "I couldn't protect you," He said softly. Ziva could tell he had moved several feet, but he was still facing her. "I wasn't fast enough. I should have moved in faster. I should have protected you," He said regretfully. Moments later, Ziva heard his familiar footsteps, followed by the closing of the door.


	2. Out of Here

_It is not his fault. I have to tell him. _Ziva lay in the hospital room silently. She wanted to wake up, or so she thought. A pang of guilt ran through her as she remembered the previous summer. It had nearly been a year since Jenny died, and being separated from the team had been even worse than she thought it'd be. But then…

_I have to get out of here. I have to see him,_ Ziva thought just before she drifted off again.

Tony came in early that day. It hadn't taken Ziva long to wake up, but he couldn't bring himself to see her like that, so helpless and broken. It was now Ziva's first day back, but he couldn't face her. Not after he failed her. It had taken him so long to admit to himself that he loved her, but if he couldn't protect her, what was the use of even telling her.

Tony charged up the stairs walking through the hallways to Director Vance's office. Cynthia wasn't in, let alone Ziva. But nonetheless, he knew Vance would be here.

"Sir," Tony said, walking right on in. Vance stood from his desk.

"I see you've taken after Gibbs more than I thought,"

"Sir, I have a request," Tony said, ignoring Vance's last comment, though he tended to agree.

Vance sat back down and motioned for Tony to sit. "Sir, I'd like a transfer,"

"A transfer? After all I went through to get you back from the Seahawk? After all you went through? Your team? What's this about?" Tony only stared him in the eye. "Is this about the incident with Officer David?"

"Sir," Tony beckoned, his face and voice fully of determination, though his gut was screaming at him. For once, maybe Gibbs was wrong.

"That wasn't your fault,"

"I was her partner; I didn't do my job,"

"It was not your fault," Vance replied, this time more forcefully. As much as he hated to admit it, he was following after Gibbs, and the agency needed Gibbs, so the agency needed Tony.

"Your opinion has been taken into consideration. However it's not my life that was on the line,"

He sighed. "I'll put in for your transfer, effective immediately. Pack up,"

"No need. Just have it shipped to my apartment," Tony stood, forcing himself not to groan. Every movement seemed to be etched in pain. Thank you, sir," Tony walked out the office, trying to be brave. He walked down to his desk, grabbed a box, then headed toward the elevator before deciding to use the stairs in order to avoid Ziva.

"Morning," Abby said from her computer, typing furiously. "You're never here early. What's going on? Why isn't Ziva here? She's coming back today. I've got roses for her and everything. Sister Rosita beat her score last night by twenty points. It was _awesome_,"

"Abby," Tony said, trying to regain her attention as she chattered on.

"You should come to our next game. We're going up against a team from Boston. We're like mortal enemies,"

"Abby,"

"Hey so you never answered my question,"

"Abby," She finally looked at him with her full attention. "I'm leaving,"

"Well you don't need to announce yourself to do that. Feel free to go back upstairs anytime. Gibbs does,"

"No, you don't understand. I'm getting transferred," Abby stared at him for a moment, her face going from blank to grief in an instant.

"Tony," She said, tears in her eyes. "You can't leave. Is it Vance? I'll have Gibbs kick his butt. We'll get this figured out,"

Tony shook his head. "Abby, this is my choice, not Vance's, not Gibbs'. Listen, Abs, I need a favor,"

"Anything," Abby said, a tear slipping down her cheek. She was treating this differently than she ever had treated anything. Tony could see the determination, hurt, and compassion in her eyes.

"I need you to tell Ziva I'm sorry,"

"Tony, I can't,"

"Tell her I should have protected her and give her this," Tony handed her a package.

"What's this?" Abby's voice was barely a whisper as her black mascara ran down her cheeks. She hated this. She wanted to do something, to stop him. But this time she knew things were different.

"Just give it to her. Tell her… Tell her I've made too many mistakes,"

"Tony," Abby set down the box and pulled Tony into a hug. Over time he had become her older brother, a part of the little family they had all created.

Tony closed his eyes as he leaned up against the wall of the elevator. He couldn't look at the walls for fear of remembering the times the team had spent in this tiny room. Too many memories.

"_I'm tired of pretending,"_

"_So am I,"_

Tony sighed and slid down the wall. This was the right thing to do. He had to do it. He deserved it. She deserved better.

They had a bond that no one could explain. A way of predicting the other's next move, communicating without words. They read each other like a book. Understood each other. But the last few months had been… professional. Less banter. Less meaningful glances. Tony ached whenever he thought about it. He hated the way things were. If he had it his way, she'd be his by now and none of this would have happened.

And that was all.


	3. Letters Never Sent

Ziva walked into Abby's lab after not finding anyone in the bullpen. She found McGee and Gibbs there, standing on either side of Abby. They were silent as they turned to see her come in. Ziva saw that Abby had been crying. McGee looked defeated. Gibbs… Ziva couldn't even decipher the expression on his face, but she knew he could not be happy.

"What is going on?" Ziva asked tentatively. "Who died? Where is Tony?" Ziva's heart began to beat faster as she feared the worst.

"He's fine," McGee said hesitantly, then looked to Abby.

Abby stepped forward and drew Ziva into an embrace. "Tony said he should have protected you. He said he made too many mistakes," She whispered.

With a sniff, Abby pulled away from Ziva who stood there numbly. Her eyes fell upon the package addressed to her on the table beside them. "He wanted me to give that to you,"

Ziva picked up the box and walked out of the room, not stopping until she reached Ducky's lab. The only person around was Palmer who had made a dash for the door when he saw her expression. She walked over to a table, turned on the overhead light, the only light in the room, and opened the box.

Inside, she found envelopes. There must have been over a hundred. They were all addressed to her, with Tony's contact information in the corner. There were even a number of stamps in the corners, but they had never been postmarked.

_Dear Ziva,_

_This may be the only time in my life when a move reference hasn't come to mind. _

_It's my fault that Jenny's dead. It's my fault the team was split up. Ziva, I am so sorry. If only I had listened to you..._

_I remember our first real conversation, right after Kate died. It was raining and you had found me in front of the hotel. You had known I was tailing you since you left the Navy Yard. I should have known. You were right. You always are._

_-Tony_

_--------------_

_Dear Ziva,_

_I miss you. I miss the whole team. It sucks being here. I even miss Probie—can you believe it?_

_It seems like my life is one giant regret. Nothing ever went right for me. I was disinherited when I was 12. My dad was an idiot, and my mom? Well, she was the one who married the idiot. What do you think that says about her?_

_-Tony_

_-------------_

_Dear Ziva,_

_Jeanne was a mistake. I shouldn't have fallen in love with my undercover op. It was a stupid thing to do. A probie mistake. I'm an idiot. _

_You know, I wonder if it really was love. Maybe it's just because she was the first woman I'd ever committed to. I guess I don't know what love is like._

_-Tony_

_-----------------_

_Dear Ziva,_

_Being on this ship sucks. I'm on the Seahawk now. I spent a month on the Reagan total. It was like watching grass grow. No, I've got a better one. It's like being on a stakeout._

_I've got a lot of time to think though. Lucky me._

_Maybe I need a headslap from Gibbs… I really have gone off my rocker, haven't I? (Try using that idiom on all your Mossad friends. They'll get a kick out of it. Ooh, there's another one for ya.)_

_I'm trying not to blame myself for Jenny's death so much. Or drink. To tell ya the truth, the second one is a heck of a lot easier._

_When I was a kid, I had this friend, Nicky. Well, he was more like a cousin of a cousin of an uncle or something, but you get the idea. We were best friends—we'd ride our bikes all around town and play basketball until it was too dark to see and then wake up early to shoot even more hoops. When we were thirteen we were just hanging out at the park, not doing much of anything, when a bunch of guys drove by and just started shooting. We were all freaking out—it was summer, so there were a lot of people there. A couple minutes went by and the guys in the car left, but when I looked over to where Nicky was standing, he was on the ground, dead. I just stood there staring at him, long after the police came. They never did find out who did it. _

_That's why I became a cop._

_-Tony_

_---------------_

Some of the letters were pages long. Others were only a few lines, jotted down quickly. As Ziva read through them in the silence of autopsy, tears fell slowly. With each letter, Tony became more personal. Honest. He told stories from his childhood, his years working in various police departments, the antics of his crazy family, and his time at Ohio State. Each letter, though, had regret weaved throughout the words. It was obvious, especially to Ziva. She read through them as fast as she could without missing a sentence or meaning, yet somehow each letter seemed to pass slowly, even the short ones. Ziva laughed and smiled as she read the words written by the one and only Tony, but her heart ached when she read how much he had gone through in his life.

It was the second to last letter that stopped her in her tracks, and the tears really began to fall. This was so unlike her, so unusual.

_Dear Ziva,_

_I really don't even know if I should write this. But then I thought about Gibbs and Jenny. Jenny died before they ever got their second chance. They had it, it was right in their reach, but they waited too long. After all those years, they had another chance to make things happen. You and I could both see how much they were still in love, even after so long. Gibbs would probably never admit to it, but she meant the world to him. I'll bet I'm not the only one who blames myself for her death._

_I don't want to end up like Gibbs with the boat, basement, and bourbon. I get it now, but I know that's not what I want. I don't wanna die alone like Jenny. I want to come home to someone ever day. I want to have someone to bring flowers to just because and someone who will get what I do. Jeanne… She could never have been that. She wanted someone I couldn't be. And you know what? I can live with that. I want to be someone's hero without having to change who I am. I want someone to love me and respect me._

_Ziva. I want _you_. You made me the man I never thought I could be. You had faith in me when I thought I couldn't do it and you… I don't even know how to say it. You changed me. Before I met you, I was a kid, interested only in pretty faces and one-night stands. Life was a joke. And now? I've got a reason to live—really live. At least, I want to._

_There's no movie quote, no song that could ever tell you how much I think I love you. There, I said it. I hope McGemcity will be happy. But I hope it makes you even happier._

_-Tony_

Ziva was stunned.


	4. Against the Wall

**A/N: Hello there. How is everyone liking this so far? So the last chapter stirred up a lot of "Awwws" and thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorite this story. Writing those letters was actually one of the harder things to write, but I loved doing it. **

**Disclaimer: Despite the fact that I haven't actually remembered to put this in for pretty much the entire length of the story, I don't own NCIS. Yet.**

"Tony, answer the phone," Ziva coaxed as she paced across the floor of her apartment. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him. The ringing stopped and his voicemail message played. "Tony, you are an idiot. You cannot just drop that on a person…" Ziva searched for a reason to make him see her. "If you do not call me back, I will leave NCIS,"

Three days later, he still hadn't called. No matter how many times she tried, he wouldn't answer his dang phone.

"Gah!" Ziva slammed her hands on her keyboard in frustration. She needed to punch something…

"There a problem, David?" Gibbs asked, suddenly beside the wall of the bullpen.

Ziva looked up at him, and Gibbs stared down at her knowingly. The look in her eyes was the same look he saw in his when Shannon died all those years before. Lost; searching; defeated.

Gibbs sighed, and threw his empty coffee cup in her trash before storming out of the squadroom, up the stairs, down the hall, and straight into Vance's office.

"Why did you transfer DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded. Vance stood, meeting his icy stare.

"He's been under you for eight years. He needs his own team," Gibbs stared at him carefully for a moment.

"That's not why, _Leon_, and you and I both know it," Vance sighed.

"He asked me to,"

"And why would he do a stupid thing like that?"

"I think you know," Vance's eyes shifted towards the door; towards Ziva.

"You let him go. You didn't have to do that. You should have sent him to _me_!"

"He wanted to be kept private, and I don't appreciate your tone," Gibbs laughed.

"The last time the Director of NCIS kept something private between themselves and an agent, five people ended up dead,"

"That was her choice,"

"And this was yours," Gibbs stared at him, but Vance didn't budge. "Where is DiNozzo?"

"He never left DC. All you had to do was ask,"

"What did I tell you about always being reachable?" A familiar voice sounded behind the lone man at the bar.

"How'd you find me?" Tony asked, not turning around. A glass sat before him, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it.

Gibbs shrugged. "Vance said you were still here. Figured you weren't far,"

Tony nodded, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. Typical Gibbs.

"You blame yourself," Gibbs said.

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Both," He replied.

"Wouldn't you?"

Gibbs shrugged and was silent for several more minutes. "Why'd ya leave?"

Tony stared down into his drink. "I suck at my job,"

"No you don't,"

"I messed up my undercover mission, my protection detail, and I couldn't even protect my partner,"

"Punishing yourself won't help,"

"Yeah, well maybe I'll think twice next time," Tony ran a hand through his light brown hair. The familiar bar was unusually quiet, something Tony was particularly grateful for; he could barely deal with himself, much less other people.

"You're not giving yourself the chance,"

"I don't deserve it," Tony flinched under Gibbs' watchful eye. "I failed, Gibbs, okay? I obviously suck at this job. I could even protect—"

"The woman you love?" Gibbs finished for him. Tony looked up, startled. "Yeah, I know,"

"Well then you should be glad I'm leaving, rule twelve and all. You have your rules for a reason, right Boss? I'm guessing you know from experience," Tony suggested. "With Jenny," He dared to add. He almost expected a headslap, but he saw none coming.

Gibbs shrugged and looked around. "Nah, I wouldn't say that…"

"Well what would you say?" Tony asked, confused, his drink forgotten and pushed to the side.

"Yeah, I learned from experience. But I learned that you can't wait for things like this," Gibbs said. "You can't wait," He whispered again, regretfully. "I'd say you've made a lot of mistakes, DiNozzo,"

"Yeah, thanks," Tony's eyes shifted downward.

"Don't make this another,"

"You mean…?"

Gibbs stood and headed toward the door, but stopped for a moment and turned to Tony. "My team was torn apart once. You leave and it's all over," Tony nodded, taking in all Gibbs had just said. He was surprised and confused, unsure of what to do next. "You should check your voicemail," Gibbs said, heading out the door.

Ziva leaned against the door of her apartment, an aching feeling in her gut. She knew she wasn't sick; she had felt this pain before, when she killed Ari. It was a feeling of guilt, of frustration, of regret. There was so much she needed to tell him, and he was just out of reach.

Ziva looked across her apartment, her eyes landing on a photo on the wall. _Michael_. Michael had never been anyone truly special to her. When she was sent back to Israel the previous summer, she had found in him companionship; someone who understood the job. Michael Rivkin was also Mossad. Handsome, yes, and Jewish. But he… he wasn't Tony.

Oh, how she needed to talk to him. She needed to tell him. There were so many things he needed to know. And now he never would.


	5. Looks Like Rain

**A/N: Ok, so I am so endlessly sorry for not finishing this story. I could have sworn that I did! I'm so sorry!**

**Ok, here's the next chapter. You all deserve a cupcake for not hating me. Unless you do. In which case… You still deserve one for not lashing out at me. Heh.**

Tony stared at his phone in the bar for hours. Thoughts rushed through his head, each thought crashing into the previous one violently. Had Ziva read the letters? What would she think? Should he call her? Should he go back to NCIS? Should he transfer back? Should he take the transfer he had personally asked Vance for?

"Sir," a voice jolted Tony out of his mess of a mind. "Sir, we're closing. You have to leave now," Tony glanced wearily at the time, nodded, and stumbled out. He hadn't had a drop to drink, but he had never felt so disconcerted.

He found his way home safely. Perhaps he had learned a thing or two from Gibbs and his insane driving skills.

Tony made his way to the couch in his apartment and sat down. The only light in the apartment was coming from the one in his hallway, but it didn't matter. He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. _Some things are just better left to die, right?_ _What we could have had… What we _did_ have… It's not. But it's too late now_.

"Good morning, Abby," Ziva said as she entered Abby's lab. Abby had only been there for ten minutes, but Ziva had been there for hours. Ziva handed her a Caf-Pow with a small smile.

"Morning," Abby said somewhat cheerily. The loss of Tony was still heavily on their minds. "I've decided something,"

"What?" Ziva inquired.

"I'm not going to let Tony's leaving get to me,"

"But I thought you liked Tony,"

"I do! I just think I could use my powers for good," Abby began to type on her computer as the confused Israeli stood beside her.

"What are you doing, Abby?"

"Just wait," she prodded. After a moment, a map revealed itself on her screen. "Got it!" The address appeared, green signals surrounding it. "Tony hasn't even left DC. He's still here, Ziva!" Abby hugged Ziva with joy. "What?" She asked, suddenly concerned at Ziva's apathy.

"Nothing,"

"No, that was something. Tell me," Ziva only looked at the forensic scientist before her. "It's what was in the box, isn't it?"

Ziva nodded slowly. "It was letters,"

"Letters?"

"That he wrote when he was on the Reagan and Seahawk,"

"He wrote to you?" Abby asked quietly in surprise. She turned away from the screen and leaned up against the table, just as Ziva was.

"He never sent them,"

"How many were there?"

"Over one hundred forty,"

"Ziva that's—"

"One for each day he was gone," Ziva finished, staring at the floor.

"Why didn't he send them?"

"I do not know, Abby. Perhaps he just does not care," Abby looked at the woman beside her. Her eyes were vacant; defeated. She reached over to Ziva and enveloped her in a hug.

"That's not true," Abby whispered. Ziva pulled back after a moment. She smiled at Abby in thanks, but Abby saw the tears in her eyes.

"I will see you later, Abby," Ziva said quietly, straining not to break down in tears. Abby nodded, concern having taken over her face.

Ziva walked about aimlessly. Gibbs wouldn't be here for another half hour, but she didn't feel like getting to work just yet. She walked out into the parking lot, heading towards her car. To her surprise, she saw a man leaning up against it. She couldn't see his face. Ziva instinctively reached for her gun.

"Do you need something?" She called sarcastically, aiming her weapon squarely towards his head. The man turned around. _Tony._ She quickly put her gun back in its holster. "What are you doing here?"

"You called me,"

"Twenty-seven times. You did not pick up. I figured you did not want to talk to me,"

"You were right," Tony said honestly. Immediately he regretted his response as he saw the hurt in Ziva's eyes, though she tried not to show it. They stood for a moment silently, staring in each other's eyes.

"You left. Why?" Ziva finally asked.

"It was the right thing to do,"

"Was it?"

"Yes, it was,"

It became silent again. Not even a car drove by as they stood. Countless questions hung in the humid air. The sky above them rumbled through the dark clouds.

"Looks like rain," Tony observed.

"Looks like a storm," Ziva corrected him, almost daring him to get her angry. Suddenly her cell phone rang. "David. Michael? No, I am fine. Yes, I got your flowers. They're lovely,"

Tony suddenly felt as if his heart had stopped beating. _Michael. He must be the guy she left in Israel._ A moment later, Ziva hung up.

"Who was that?"

"It is none of your business," Ziva said defensively.

"Is it your boyfriend?" Tony asked pointedly, receiving a bewildered look from Ziva, the look he had expected to see on her face.

"I never said he was my boyfriend,"

"Your eyes say it all," Ziva was quiet. "He was the guy, the one in Israel, the one you went to visit,"

"Perhaps. I have the right to a personal life,"

"When were you going to tell me, Ziva?"

"I did not think you needed to know,"

"I'm your partner! What if something had happened to you because you were distracted? Ever heard the phrase, 'A distracted soldier is a dead soldier'?"

"Do you not think I know that?"

"That's beside the point. Alright, you don't have to tell me everything, but there are some things you just don't keep to yourself,"

"Well then I guess I am lucky because you are no longer my partner!" Ziva was shocked that she had dared to say those words, and she hated that she had said it.

Thunder rolled again, this time closer.

"I have to go to work," Ziva finally said. She walked away before he could answer, her heart pounding and aching all at once.


	6. Like Gibbs

**A/N: Hey. Here's the latest installement. Though, seeing as I wrote it probably four months ago, it's not technically new. But it is to you. So enjoy. : ) And congratulations to all the graduates!**

"Ah, Mr. Palmer would you—"

"It's me, Ducky," Tony said as he walked into the autopsy room. Ducky turned around to see Tony leaning against one of the tables.

"Welcome back, Anthony. I guess your heart got the better of you then?" Ducky said as he walked over to Tony, a cup of tea in his hand, offering it to him.

"Yeah, it did, and it reminded me of why I left," Tony said, thinking of the stupid things he had said to Ziva only minutes before. It hadn't taken him long to storm inside the building, and he had fortunately done so without seeing Ziva. Tony took the cup gratefully. Tea wasn't really his thing, but he needed to do something with his hands, and it was either that or punching his fist into the wall.

"And why is that?"

"I'm a lousy partner,"

"Which is why you made it so far in your career and even had an offer for your own team in Rota, Spain?"

"Jenny told you about that?"

Ducky nodded. "But mostly, I like to think I have well-tuned skills of observation,"

"I was a jerk, Ducky," Tony said quietly.

"I'm sure she understands," Somehow, the doctor just _knew_.

"I don't think she does,"

"Things like love, they take time my dear boy," Tony looked at the doctor. "Yes, I know all about it. It was never hard to miss,"

"I had four years and then I ruined it, only to find out that she… She's not available,"

"What are you talking about?"

"Israel," Tony said simply.

"Well there's no way you could have known,"

"But I did. I just didn't want to believe it,"

"Sounds normal to me,"

"What isn't normal is accusing your partner, your best friend, of things they're not guilty of,"

"Perhaps you're right then. You shouldn't have waited," Tony stared at the floor.

"It's not my fault, Ducky. Jeanne…"

"Ah, yes, I remember the ordeal. You had your heart quite broken,"

"Yeah, I did. And then things got better and then… and then Jenny died and everything got messed up,"

"Perhaps not," Ducky suggested.

Tony shook his head. "It's over," He set down the cup on the table behind him and left the room.

"I'm afraid that young man has taken after Gibbs a little too much," Ducky mused quietly to himself.

Tony sat on his couch, defeated and weak. This wasn't who he was. He was a DiNozzo, after all, and DiNozzo men were supposed to be stronger than this. How could the same woman who made him want to be a better man make him feel like a fool? Perhaps it was because she really was right. He knew she was. _I should have called. I should have never let her go._

He needed her. He loved her. Being without her was like the ocean without sand. It just wasn't right.

_The letters_. Tony still wasn't sure if he did the right thing, giving her the letters. But he needed to stop reading them and rereading them, trying to decide what to do with them. Tears stung his eyes just thinking about hit. Maybe, just maybe, if he had sent those letters he wouldn't be alone tonight. Maybe she'd be sitting beside him watching a movie, like they used to do. Only in those days, he would never have admitted his feelings to her, much less to himself.

He had written so many. One letter each day that he didn't see her. When he had first begun, he wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he needed to. But page by page, he began to open up, to share with her all the things that were in his heart. He couldn't do that with anyone else, not even Jeanne.

But he had never sent them. He always meant to, always wanted to. Whenever he began a new letter, he did so determined that today would be the day when he would send it. But when it came time to post the mail, he couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

Tony sat on his couch for hours. He wanted to sleep, but his mind was reeling with thoughts and images and regrets. _Why can't I shake this?_ He thought in frustration.

"_You've made a lot of mistakes. Don't make this another,"_ Gibbs' words rang through his ears loud and clear. It seemed too late. The one chance he had with the one woman he loved had been lost.

He grabbed his cell phone and began to dial her familiar number. He hated to wake her, but he had to solve this, and now. He needed to see her, to talk to her. To tell her that he was wrong. His finger lingered over the "Send" button. Mustering up his courage, he pressed his finger onto the button and waited to hear her voice.

He got to hear her voice alright, but it was only her message machine.

She was on the phone, and there was only one person she'd be calling at four AM.


End file.
